


Flight Lessons

by Lestradesexwife



Series: Alec/James/john [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Suspension, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestradesexwife/pseuds/Lestradesexwife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should be noted that while I have every respect for Sean Bean, I have headcast the rebooted Alec as Tom Hardy... You are free to take or leave that. This is PWP, an excuse for me to further explore sub!john in a variety of poses and configurations. </p><p>There is a tiny little bit of post-fall-pre-return angst at the beginning.</p><p>Also I have emotions surrounding the shoulders of John and James.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> John being John... doesn't entirely have the healthiest relationship with his desires. He manages alright.

The club is quiet, as quiet as any of these sorts of places ever get. More lounge than club, dim, tables lit with candles in heavy crystal holders. Nothing so gauche as tapers dripping down over skulls like the first club John had tried. He shudders at that memory; he’d felt a thousand years old surrounded by kids in leather and chains, and had only lasted five minutes before the half seen vision of cheekbones and cold blue eyes had driven him out into the street. 

 

John nods at the waiter that brings him his drink, smiles as he tips. He takes a sip from the drink, cool and sweet and clear, before setting it back on the table. He wishes for beer or something stronger, but this room is strictly for negotiations. The rooms downstairs, both for public play and the private rooms, are stocked with alcohol, but here there are only non-alcoholic beverages and finger foods with fancy names John can barely pronounce. 

 

He sighs and shifts, trying not to feel out of place. The voice in the back of his head still sounds like Sherlock. _Novice, aware that he needs something outside the ‘vanilla’ not sure yet what that means. Can barely afford to be here, dressed in his best shirt and trousers. Desperate. John, you are going to get yourself killed._

 

He doesn’t squeeze his eyes shut, only because there is a small danger of attracting the wrong sort of attention. _Isn’t that why you’re here?_ He feels exposed without his customary jumper, but he left it home, choosing instead one of the collared shirts Sherlock had insisted that he have tailored for him, and a matching tie. Sherlock’s fingers had brushed over his shoulders and pronounced him presentable. He’d worn it once while Sherlock was alive, and then it had hung in his closet until tonight. 

 

He sips his drink again to clear his throat, scans the room through lowered lashes. Stopping to appreciate the two men at the bar, clearly out of his league but worth lingering over. _Observe, John. If you are going to do this at least have the decency to pay attention._ John tamped down firmly on the voice in the back of his head, but the warning triggers his training and he notices the particular cut of their bespoke suits, designed to hide a small armoury, not just the traditional handgun of the low level henchmen. His heart pounds, the calm that comes with an adrenaline rush smoothing over his rough edges. They express no interest in him in particular and continue to chat lightly. _I really need to stop seeing Moriarty everywhere. He’s gone, Sherlock..._ John shudders and pushes that thought away. John gathers himself up to leave, he’ll try again on another night, this isn’t the kind of rush he is looking for.

 

“Are you leaving? We were hoping we could join you.” Unsubtle, the words send a thrill running through John. Scolding himself for not noticing their approach, he looks up and meets the eyes of the stranger, sees absolutely no recognition there and relaxes just a fraction. 

 

John licks his lips and looks away. “I... If you like, Sir.” John isn’t submissive, doesn’t want to wear a collar or lick boots. He wants, needs, to give himself over to someone, to cede control and have someone else take him apart. His eyes skip over the two men as they settle in chairs at the small table. Even if nothing happens tonight he would have months of fantasies about what these two _could_ do to him. 

 

The one that has yet to speak looks like what John used to wish he would grow into: chiseled features and cool blue grey eyes, the tailored suit hiding the body of a man who spends the majority of his time honing himself to a fine edge. John jolts out of his fantasy, remembering that they are dangerous, armed and to his eye proficient.

 

“This is James, and I’m Alec. There is no need to stand on formality, you may use our names. Although I think I won the bet. James didn’t think you are Army.”

 

“John. Former... Sir. I’m not Army anymore.” He lets it sound almost like a question. He’s confident he can cut and run if necessary. If they are independent contractors they won’t want to draw attention to themselves by chasing after him, and he still has Lestrade’s number on speed dial.

 

James shifts in his chair, noting the way John tenses until he pulls out his wallet and peels a hundred pound note out and pushes it across the table to Alec. John raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on the transaction. Alec laughs, deep and proud, as he flicks the bill off the table and slips it carelessly into his jacket pocket. 

 

John purses his lips and lifts the drink again, pausing before taking a sip. Alec’s grin falters and he leans forward. “John. I don’t mean to offend. James and I are Navy, he thinks everyone must be Navy as well.” John’s eyes travel to the tell tale signs of guns under their jackets. “Well, I say Navy, we... formerly SBS, but we... are still... in service.”

 

Vague, but James tenses; Alec straying too close to the truth. John sets the glass down without taking a sip. “Alright.” He flicks his fingers, pushing the topic away and relaxing slightly in his chair. Broadcasting acceptance and whatever the opposite of curiosity would be. He’s been around enough special ops and _Mycroft_ to know when he shouldn’t ask questions.

 

James makes a quiet needy noise in the back of his throat and leans towards John, jumps a little as Alec kicks him under the table. 

 

“John, please forgive James. He’s... gone without for awhile, and we were looking for someone to share. If you would be agreeable.”

 

John’s heart skips and he feels himself go perfectly calm, sliding into the space where he is capable of anything. His decision was made the moment he agreed to let them join him. Well, when Alec asked to join him; he still hasn’t heard James speak. “Here? Or... My flat isn’t set up for anything... complicated. Sorry, Sir.” He flinches, the idea of taking these two to 221B both extremely erotic and a twist of pain through his heart. Having them on Sherlock’s bed, letting them do anything they wanted... He lets his eyes fall closed for an instant, hoping that Alec will suggest either staying at the club or going to his flat.

 

“Home, Alec. Please home.” James’ voice is smoke and whiskey and sex, sends a rush of desire to John’s cock. He opens his eyes and regards James, startled by the naked desire he sees in James’ eyes. “I want to take you home and wrap you in ropes. Say yes, John.”

 

“Yes, _god_ yes.” He shouldn’t, this could still be an elaborate trap, he hasn’t taken any precautions coming here, or to any of the clubs before it. Needing that extra stab of danger to make leaving the flat worthwhile. His cock twitches harder at the prospect of going willingly where a sane man would not. 

 

Alec smiles. “Very good, John. Shall we?” He puts his hand flat on the table and tilts his head, preparing to stand. “Did you drive?”

 

“No, Sir. A cab.” John stands and gathers his jacket around him. James stands and moves close, his fingers nearly brushing John’s elbow before he asks for permission.

 

“May I?”

 

“As you like, Sir.” John falls back onto the formulaic responses of his Army days, relaxing into the firm grip on his elbow. 

 

“Are you doing that on purpose?” Alec turns and makes way for John and James to pass him.

 

“Sorry, Alec. It is habit... and comfortable. I’ll stop.” John stops his tongue on the ‘Sir’ that attempts to slide out at the last moment.

 

James’ fingers tighten on his elbow and Alec makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “As you like, John. We... we like it. But it is terribly old-fashioned, and we understand that it is not done any longer to insist on it.” Alec doesn’t move to crowd John, his smile is genuine and John relaxes further against James.

 

“Thank you Sir.” John can’t explain how it makes his mind calm to use formal terms, just allows James to lead him outside, part way down the block before hailing a cab.

 

John climbs in first, but they settle onto the bench seat and John is sandwiched between them. He doesn’t complain, or try to extricate himself. It is cramped, and John is fairly certain there will be a mark on his side from the butt of Alec’s gun pressing into him. It is also obscenely dangerous, the only thing John can think to ask is, “You didn’t drive either?”

 

“We... didn’t expect to stay upstairs long. We have a room booked, but we saw you and changed our plans.” Alec let his hand rest on John’s knee. John finds his mind helpfully supplying images of what these two would look like alone in one of the private rooms. His cock shows renewed interest in the proceedings and he begins to hope that they don’t live far from the club. Alec’s thumb runs circles on John’s knee. “Not long.”

 

John sighs and tries to sit back on the seat, pushing himself deeper between the two men and slightly spreading his legs, unintentionally drawing small gasps from all three of them. 

 

James growls, “Safeword?”

 

“Cinnamon.”

 

Alec squeezes his knee again and looks out the window, and after that they don’t speak again. The taxi ride is mercifully short, ending at a block of posh flats complete with a doorman who rushes out to open the door of the taxi for them. Alec pays the fare, and James takes John by the elbow again, making the doorman dash to open the building door for them before Alec has even finished getting his change. 

 

John laughs, a spark running through him. “Shouldn’t we wait for Alec?”

 

“He’ll catch up.” James slows his pace, possibly out of deference for the overtaxed doorman, who speeds ahead to call the lift. They wait in enforced silence until the doors open and Alec slides in with them. The tension in the elevator makes John fidget, until he finally asks. “Sir?”

 

“Security camera.” 

 

John feels himself slide deeper under as the lift rises, warm calm stillness rising up and over him.  The lift goes to the top floor, opens out into a penthouse the likes of which John has only ever seen in movies. Glad that he didn’t bring them to 221B; it is beautiful in it’s chaos, but this flat is exquisite. John’s far enough under now that he doesn’t feel out of place, knows that later he’ll wonder what these two are doing with him. For now the promise of James’ rope is enough to soothe him. Alec takes his jacket, hangs it in the hallway, speaks to John and it is only when he stops that John realizes he has no idea what he said. “I’m sorry, Sir?” Shakes himself, pulls himself up to understand commands and requests.

 

“Would you like a drink? Do you need anything?” Alec is patient, his voice smooth. James practically vibrates with desire, but he is following Alec’s cues. Holding himself back to match Alec. John wants to kneel at James’ feet, give himself over and know that Alec will stop, or that he won’t.

 

“I’m fine Sir. If you would like to begin, when you are ready.” John balances on the balls of his feet, ready to move forward whenever Alec commands it.

 

James closes his fingers around the back of John’s neck, not exerting pressure, but holding John steady. Alec looks between them, smile spreading over his face. “You are a pretty picture, the two of you. Down, please, John.”

 

John bends, folding at the knees, beside James but facing Alec. James’ fingers curl in the short hair at John’s nape. “Thank you, Sir.”

 

Alec takes two steps towards him and runs his hand through John’s hair. “Your limits?”

 

“Hospitalization, piss and shit, permanent marks. Use condoms. I have to be at work on Monday morning.” It is Friday night, and John dares to let hope colour that sentence. It is a lie, the last sensible part of his brain rearing up and trying to save him. He has nowhere to be Monday. The greater part of him doesn’t want to be saved, would be quite happy chained to the radiator in this flat for the duration.

 

“Do you like guns John?”

 

“I do, Sir. I prefer them unloaded and safetied and I’d like to be allowed to check them myself.” James fingers twitch on the back of John’s neck at that. “Given the choice, Sir, I’d avoid anything medfet. I’m a doctor, bit of a busman’s holiday - but not a hard limit, Sir.”

 

“Noted. Up you get, shoes off. Anything we should know about in your pockets?” Alec’s smile is audible, even though John is staring at a spot on the floor beside his feet. John shifts under James’ hand, leaning forward slightly to unlace and loosen Alec’s shoes. Alec makes a small surprised sound and then lifts his feet to let John pull the shoes off. He can’t reach James’ feet from his angle so he does his own shoes next pulling first one foot forward then the other to remove his shoes. James pinches slightly and lifts, just enough to turn John towards him and away from his shoes. John repeats the process, sighing when Alec’s hand entwines with James’ on the back of his neck. 

 

His head stays bowed even after James’ shoes come off, the small sounds of pleasure above his head filling him with anticipation. He can’t see them kissing, but the sounds are unmistakable, and the tiny shifts in pressure against the back of his head keep him grounded, aware of his part in this. When they break apart and pull up on the nape of John’s neck he rises up to meet them.

 

“May we kiss you, John?”

 

“Please, Sir.”

 

Alec’s hand falls to the small of his back, and James’s pulls him close, lifting him up until their lips touch, licking into his mouth. John’s moan is swallowed in James’ mouth. The kiss is desperate and needy for both of them; it has been far too long since someone held John like this, and he can sense the same from James. 

 

Alec’s hand roams along the waistband of his trousers. “I’d like you naked, John, do you mind?”

 

John pulls at his tie in response, loosening it so he can open the buttons on his collar. He’s worked the top three open when James breaks free and tugs at his arm. 

 

“Come.” John gives up on the buttons and follows as James pulls him down the hallway. They pass an open doorway, neatly made bed and fantastic view out the picture windows registering in John’s mind before they pass the door and stop in front of the flat’s only closed door. 

 

“John, there is no point of no return here. If you want to stop we stop, but after this it will be more complicated.” Alec is reasonable, and it would annoy John if he was up enough; now he feels warm and protected, leans back into James and waits for Alec to open the door. 

 

There is nothing surprising behind the door. The playroom is tasteful, most of the furniture mundane, if solid and capable of being used outside of its normal design specifications. The hooks and sturdy chains hanging from the ceiling are the only things that differentiate this room, turning a “man-cave” into a dungeon. John lets Alec draw him in, pulled to stand in front of a sleek tan leather sofa. James wanders to a cabinet and starts selecting ropes. John watches as his fingers run over each neat coil, his pulse thrumming in his chest, until Alec pulls him close and kisses him gently on the lips. 

 

“Strip now please, John.” Alec steps back, giving John room to pull his tie over his head and finish opening the buttons on his shirt. He pulls it free of his trousers and works open his fly. He hesitates before he drops his trousers. James has come back to watch, setting out coils of red silk rope on the table beside the sofa. 

 

Alec extends his hand. “I’ll hang them for you.” John nods his understanding and strips off the shirt, handing it neatly to Alec before working down his trousers and adding them to the pile in Alec’s arms.

 

When he looks up again to hand his trousers over he’s startled by the look on Alec’s face. Previously hungry and bordering on predatory, Alec becomes cautious and withdrawn. John licks his lips, concerned that he has misstepped somehow. “Sir?”  

 

James answers, “How did that happen?”

 

John rolls his shoulder, resisting the urge to try to cover the scar with his hands. “Afghanistan. Fire-fight, it clipped the corner of my armour and...” His mouth dries at the look on James’ face. “I’m sorry, Sir. I can wear my shirt - unless, should I go?”

 

The shudder that runs through James breaks the faraway look in his eyes. “Come here.” He sets the last coil of rope down on the table and beckons John to him.

 

John crosses the room, suddenly self conscious in his pants and socks. He stops just outside James’ personal space, waits for permission to cross the last barrier of social niceties. James reaches out and nearly touches John’s shoulder, pulling away before more than the ghost of warmth comes into contact with the scar. “Take off my shirt.”

 

John tries to hide his surprise, thinking he was about to be dismissed, sent away because he is broken and used up. James has already loosened his tie, or possibly Alec did it while John was removing their shoes. John slides his fingers over the fine fabric of the shirt, calling into question the presentable nature of his own shirt. The buttons slide open easily, and John is soothed by the repetition of it. He reaches the waistband of James’ trousers quickly and gently pulls the shirt free, opening the two bottom buttons before turning to remove his cufflinks. John forces his breath out through his teeth at the sight of them, but pushes the memory away. He drops them gently beside the coiled rope and hesitates before turning up James’ collar and slipping the tie over his head. He meets James’ eyes as his fingers trail over skin and across shoulders. The tiny noise that escapes John’s lips at the texture of James’ right shoulder is nearly pained, but James catches the back of his head and pulls him in for a hard kiss. Turning the sound back in on itself until there is nothing left but need. 

 

John presses forward for more when James pulls away, rocking his hips into James’ hand as he palms John through the thin barrier of his pants. “Get that off. Have you ever been suspended before John?”

 

“No Sir.”

 

“The first time, it can be disconcerting. If you need time to adjust.” The words are ripped from James, obvious that he feels he can’t skip them - resents the need for them. 

 

John bends, sighs as his cock bobs free, strips his socks as well. Leaves them all in a pile tucked under the table. “I understand, Sir. Please. I’m fine.” John doesn’t want to talk about this; he wants it done, resists the urge to drop to his knees and beg. If they asked he would do it, push his forehead down at their feet and beg to be used. Neither of them seems the type to enjoy grovelling; the idea of it grates on John’s nerves.

 

Alec has put away John’s clothes, and he spares a moment for his singular focus on James, missing the movements of the other man in the room whenever one of them is in front of him.  Alec pushes his fingers into John’s hair, gripping hard and pulling back. John’s chin comes up in response, his neck stretching against the pull. “No more talking then I think.” He turns John’s head to the side and bites at his neck, pulling a sharp groan from John.

 

Alec holds John still as James begins his harness, wrapping the rope over John’s shoulders and between his legs, crossing it over his chest until he is satisfied. When he is finished John feels more solid than he has in months, held together by the strands and friction. When the chest harness is finished James picks up a smaller rope, so fine it looks like something decorative. John inhales sharply as James grasps his cock, pulling gently until John is fully hard. The rope winds around his cock, holding him tight and just shy of painfully hard. John feels his blood pounding, chokes on a whimper. 

 

“Don’t worry John, we will make sure you come. When we are finished with you.” Alec whispers it into John’s ear, bites down sharp and hard on his lobe. John arches against him, the shock of teeth sending waves of pleasure across all of his sensitized skin. 

 

His cock slides in James’ fist and his broken groan turns into, “Thank you, Sir.”

 

James growls and spins John in Alec’s grip, with a pull of teeth and hair. “Give me your arms.”

 

John shudders as James presses him against Alec, his arms twisted behind his back. James is almost gentle with his left, smoothing over his shoulder before he wraps John’s forearms in a complex pattern of figure eights. 

 

Alec’s hands wander over John’s skin, catching his nipples and pulling them hard between the ropes across his chest. He licks into John’s mouth, claiming the sounds that he drags from John. James runs his fingers across John’s shoulders again when the knot is finished, trailing touches down to his elbows and then falling away. There is a rustle of discarded clothing behind him and the sound of a drawer closing. 

 

When James returns he presses himself against John’s back, pulling against John’s elbows to break him free of Alec’s touch. John drops his head back against James’ shoulder as Alec’s fingers pull his nipple hard, letting his grip on it be the last bit of contact to break. James reaches around, cupping John’s cock with light teasing fingers. “We have fairly simple tastes, John, we just want to fuck you hard. We just need you to wait for us. Do that for us, John. Don’t come until we tell you to.” His fingers wrap around John’s neck, pulling his head back tight against James’ shoulder, arching John’s body between the hand on his neck and the one on his cock.

 

“Yes. Please, Sir. I promise I will.”

 

James steers him towards the chains, walks him between the two hanging sets before reversing his grip on John’s neck, pushing down against his nape until John is bent double. “Hold there, John.” It is only the work of a moment to clip the chains to the ropes at John’s sides. As James moves towards his hips, John feels more and more of his control slipping away. The chains are tight enough to lift him slightly as they are attached, until John is balanced on his toes. “Very good John. Hold there just...” Alec must have come back, because they lift a sheet of latex from the floor and attach it to the chains; it cradles John and takes some of the pressure off the ropes, releasing the sense of constriction that nearly stole John’s breath while it immobilizes him completely. The sheet breaks the last connection he had with the ground, his pointed toes lifting free of the floor as he starts to swing gently forward. He drops his head between his shoulders, watching the millimeter of space between his toe and the floor. It might as well be miles for all he can stop himself from moving, but he can _just_ feel the ghost of a touch from the floor. 

 

Hands smooth down over his back, over his bound arms and squeeze handfuls of his arse. He can see two sets of legs, knows that James and Alec are standing to either side of him, but from this angle he can’t see their faces, can’t tell which fingers are holding him open and which are tracing slow circles around his hole. He tries to push back into their touch, but he has absolutely no purchase.

 

One set of feet move away and John can see James pick up another rope from the table. Alec’s fingers continue to trace around his arse, not pushing in or even really putting pressure on him. James returns and Alec lifts John’s leg, bending it at the knee and holding it while James wraps rope into a harness. The ropes hold his leg up, ankle attached to chain, muscle comfortably tight without pulling. John closes his eyes and lets himself float as the process is repeated on his other leg. 

 

John tries to move his hips, finds that it does cause the swing to rock slightly. Any true motion is negated by the hands on his legs. He can’t even get any friction against his cock, the latex is moulded so tightly against his skin that it simply moves with him. The release of tension he didn’t even know he was holding washes over him and his muscles go slack in the ropes, letting them hold him together.

 

Fingers run over the ropes along his spine. Alec’s voice is clear, but comes from a distance. “John?”

 

“Yes. Sir.” Monosyllables. John can do monosyllables.

 

“We are going to start now, John. Do you remember your safeword?”

 

John groans and pushes his knees wider, _Jesus, start... they haven’t even started yet._ “Yes, Sir. Cinnamon. Please, Sir. Don’t take me down.”

 

Fingers curl around his jaw. “John, look.”

 

John opens his eyes and groans, unashamedly needy at the sight of the two of them, naked but for condoms. “Thank you.” He manages to turn his head enough to kiss the palm holding his chin up. “Thank you, Sir.”

 

James steps close, sliding his palm into John’s hair and pulling back. John’s mouth drops open automatically and James pushes in deep. John sucks, greedy and needing more, the moan that vibrates the back of his throat drawing James further in. John swallows and fights to control his gag reflex, working his lips and tongue as close as he can get to the base of James’ cock. 

 

James groans, arching his back to push farther into John’s mouth. “Fuck, Alec. Get him ready for me. I want to fuck him.” He holds the back of John’s head and slides out, letting just the head of his cock rest between John’s lips. Three quick deep thrusts of his full length, testing John’s ability to control his gag reflex. John groans when James pulls free but doesn’t chase the contact. Alec’s hands are working on his inner thighs holding him open, and John tries to co-operate, using what control he has over his legs to hold them apart. James pulls on his hair again and pushes two fingers between John’s lips. “Get those good and wet John, they are going in your arse when Alec is finished eating you out.”

 

John lets the fingers slide all the way into his mouth before he starts working his tongue over them. He starts slow and dry, because he can only feel the ghost of breath over his arse. He jerks, breath catching when Alec licks a sudden stripe from the base of his balls up to his arsehole. He works his tongue between James’ fingers, flicking at the sensitive webbing between them, enjoying the texture of his calluses and knuckles against his lip. Alec’s tongue swirls back around, pressing into his arse. John bucks, and James tugs his fingers free. “Problem?”

 

“No. Sir. He doesn’t have to.” Alec pulls away, and John’s skin cools without the contact.

 

“Are you safewording?”

 

“No, Sir.”

 

Alec’s hand contacts with John’s arse cheek, hard and quick. Flesh snapping against flesh. “Then don’t tell me what to do.”

 

“Sorry, Sir.” His voice sounds warm and dark in his ears, the tingle of the slap pulling the words like a groan from his chest.

 

James drops John’s head and moves out of his line of sight. Alec’s hands spread John’s knees wider and there is a tugging on the chains closest to his hips. John’s body tries to arch back into them, their tongues meeting, swirling around each other and opening him up. He registers the string of near words and sounds that come out of his mouth at the sensation, thinks that it might count as begging but no longer has the will to care. 

 

Fingers join the tongues, and John drops into a space where he could wait this out indefinitely. It feels so good he doesn’t want it to stop, doesn’t care if it goes on forever at this level or if they build on the sensations they are forcing into him. Selfish guilt tickles across his mind, he should be making more of an effort to make them feel good. He’s about to say something when the fingers press deep into him, scissoring sharply. “Oh, god, please Sir.”

 

Alec groans, his tongue vibrating along the ring of muscle around James’ fingers before he pulls away and cedes control to James. “God John, you are perfect like this. So _willing_.”  His fingers trail over the exposed areas of John’s skin, first with just the pads of his fingers, then dragging his nails. “Right now, I think I have a better use for your mouth.” Alec laughs, low and dark. “James always complains that I am corny during sex. Will you forgive me John?”

 

John tries to think of something witty to say in response, but his mind derailed as James twisted his fingers in his arse, adding a third. 

 

“He’ll forgive you if you get on with fucking him, I think. His mouth is just as gorgeous as his arse. Would you like him to fuck your mouth, John?”

 

“Sir.” John tries for an affirmative but James presses against his prostate, hard and sharp and entirely too much.

 

Alec grabs hold of John’s head and pulls him up, tapping his cock against John’s lips before pushing in, one long smooth thrust that ends with John’s lips pressed against the base of his cock. The smell of latex and sex overwhelms John as he struggles to swallow around Alec’s cock. James is longer but Alec is wider and already John’s jaw aches. It has been too long since John’s done this, years, and never anything like this rough. Stolen blowjobs in supply closets at Bart’s and quick rough mutual handjobs in the military hadn’t prepared him at all for this. 

 

Alec’s hips snap, quick shallow thrusts, braced with both hands on the back of John’s skull. John isn’t sure if James is timing the thrusts of his fingers to match Alec or vice versa. When James removes his fingers and replaces them with his cock it no longer matters. The hardness of James’ fingers had felt foreign, like an invasion; the slide of his cock isn’t any less intrusive, but it presses against him in an entirely different way and he can’t help the groan that rattles through him. 

 

James isn’t gentle with him, pausing only long enough to grab hold of the curve of his arse and pull him close. The swing rocks, and Alec has to take a step towards John. He’s not sure, but he thinks that Alec curses in Russian as he holds tight to John’s head, letting the force of James’ thrusts and the motion of the swing control how he fucks John’s mouth. Every snap of James’ hips forces a moan from John, and he clamps his hands down, fighting to obey the command not to come until they are ready.

 

“Fuck, John.” James doesn’t slow his pace. “Are you going to come from this?” John whimpers around Alec’s cock, because he is close, untouched and aching in the ropes. Alec snaps his hips forward and blocks off John’s airway, cutting off the last of the sound. “Yes, you are. That’s very good John.” James pushes deeper and his balls brush against John’s, sending a rush of pleasure through him. “You are so tight and good John. _Fuck._ I want you to come like this, but if you fucking come before I do... I’m not going to stop John. We are going to fuck you until we come.”

 

John tries to make the whimper in his throat sound like _god yes please_ before Alec thrusts back into his mouth and he works his tongue around the underside to pull a groan from Alec. He lets himself float in the sensations, torn between the creeping need to let himself come and the desire to draw the moment out as long as he can. He concentrates on sucking Alec’s cock, the one thing he feels he does really have a modicum of control over. He listens for changes in Alec’s breathing and decides that it is Russian he’s hearing under Alec’s breath. He groans as he notices the pendulum effect of the swing coordinating the way he is penetrated. Even as the thrusts speed the swing becomes longer, drawing each man deeper into him in turns. The sounds he makes become staccato as they are cut off by Alec filling his throat. He tries to hold on, working his fingers into the ropes around his wrists, tries to ignore the drag of James’ cock over his prostate. The way that James’ fingers dig into the flesh of his arse and the low growl that resolves into hard grunts timed with the muted pulses of James’ cock as he comes inside John. 

 

John and Alec come together, the stuttering thrusts of James’ orgasm pushing them both over the edge. John shakes and groans against the swing, his spine curving as he struggles to press against _something_. He allows himself a momentary dissatisfaction that he can’t feel the hot rush of Alec’s come in his mouth. The rational part of his brain murmuring about dangers he doesn’t need to face. 

 

“Fuck, John. I’m keeping you. God you are perfect, you are staying. At least tonight. I’m having your mouth in the morning. And I want to watch while Alec ties you down and rides you.” James presses down against John, whispering in his ear, pushing himself deep and shivering with afterglow.

 

John’s grateful for Alec’s cock stoppering his mouth; he’s not sure he could answer with even the most formulaic words. He wants to stay like this, wonders if he could sleep floating and filled by them. 

 

Alec gives voice to John’s desire in a far more practical way. “Cut him down James, I want him to have use of his legs when he fucks me.” Alec hisses as he pulls out of John’s mouth, running soothing fingers over his jaw. “Then you can change his ropes and spread him out on the bed. Let him rest for the morning.”

 

James kneads John’s arse before he pulls out, and John collapses against the ropes, his head dropping down to hang between his shoulders. “Thank you, Sir,” his voice breaking around abused vocal cords.

 

James slaps his arse as he works to untie his left leg. “May I have another?”

 

“And now who is being corny, James?” Alec rubs his hands over the back of John’s head, and John pushes up slightly into the contact. “You did a wonderful job John. Thank you.”

James purrs as he slowly lowers John’s leg, rubbing sensation back into the skin. “Yes. Thank you, John.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> All praise to Otter for the amazing beta and just all around wonderful nature of herself.


End file.
